


just be honest with me

by wistfulwatcher



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: (i have a feeling i'm gonna use this tag a lot jsyk), F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Important Conversations, Injury, Pre-Relationship, Rescue, cat grant talking about what supergirl means, might become a first chapter, post-ep, slightly sexy use of superpowers, we just don't know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 16:04:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5632621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wistfulwatcher/pseuds/wistfulwatcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>This is a big moment. A moment for Kara to decide if she’s going to draw a line, to determine if she’s </i>allowed <i>to draw a line. To learn how much Cat’s drive outweighs her humanity. “No.”</i></p>
<p><i>Cat’s eyes flash dangerously, and a sick smirk crosses her lips. It’s</i> not <i>comforting.</i></p>
<p>post-hostile takeover: cat, kara, and a very necessary conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just be honest with me

**Author's Note:**

> written for day 3 of supercatweek on tumblr.

 

“And I want those pages on my desk for approval before I get in on Monday, Kiera. Do you understand?”

Kara jots down a note on the pad in her hands and nods, even though Cat’s ahead of her, attention focused on the phone in her hand. “Yes, Ms. Grant, I will do it before I leave tonight.” Taking a breath and furrowing her brows a little, she opens the CatCo. Plaza door, holding on to the frame almost hard enough to leave an indent.

It’s after eight on a Friday, and—while CatCo. does run in some form 24/7—the lobby is empty.

“Ms. Grant,” Kara starts low, hesitant but determined, and Cat pauses beside her, lips thinned with impatience. “About what you think you figured out the other night,” she hedges, unsure how to go about convincing Cat she isn’t Supergirl when none of her other attempts throughout the week have succeeded.

Cat’s chin tilts up and she murmurs, “Oh, Kiera,” continuing through the door, brushing past Kara. “For god’s sake, this stopped being cute days ago.” Kara follows her out, and waits with a nervous frown when Cat stops to face her suddenly.

“We both know that I am right—not for the first nor last time—about your little _disguise_ ,” her lips curl up in distaste. “You have failed to offer me a single valid alternative, you’ve no explanation for a myriad of ‘coincidences’, and whenever I, or _you_ , for that matter, even broach the subject you become nothing more than a stuttering mess.”

Sighing loudly, Cat slips her purse open enough to tuck her phone neatly inside the center pocket and looks back to Kara. Clasping her hands in front of her, she takes a slow step forward, eyes narrowing. “Gaslighting me on this issue is seriously ill-advised, and at this point is well past truly insulting.

“Now,” she takes two steps even closer, her heels clicking on the sidewalk almost deafening to Kara in this moment. “Do not be mistake—my tolerance for this behavior is running _extremely_ thin. I am going to get into that car over there,” she nods with her head to the curb, “and you are going to go back inside to complete these tasks. And when you come in on Monday, this?” she gestures between them. “Is finished. We have much bigger fish to fry now that we can truly explore the partnership between CatCo. and Supergirl.” Her face softens slightly, lips pulling into a half-smile. “And I’ve let you have your little freak-out much longer than I would have under different circumstances.”

Without another breath, Cat turns toward the car and moves to get into it, leaving Kara practically boiling in her spot by the door. The anger isn’t new—and _certainly_ not in reference to Cat Grant—but she’s fighting to temper it, to control it before she does something Very, Very Bad.

Kara breathes in and out slowly, her anger making the sounds around her louder, sharper. She can hear her own heartbeat pounding in her chest, Cat’s own softer and slower beat moving away from her, the dull hum of the engine, traffic, a low tick beneath it all.

_A tick?_ Anger starting to ebb as she listens to that strange sound, Kara’s eyes narrow, and she looks around for the source. Her X-ray vision kicks in, and nothing seems out of place until—

“MS. GRANT, STOP!”

Cat’s got one hand on the door of the town car, and is just lifting her foot to step into the vehicle and sit down _right atop a bomb_ ticking down, down, down.

But she’s catching Cat’s attention too slowly, Cat’s turning to look at her but her foot is still moving, and Kara doesn’t have any other option but to save her.

And so she does. No time to change, no time to think to move at a slower speed, no time for final thoughts of self-preservation. Instead, Kara is at Cat’s side in an instant, tugging her away from the car by the hand and wrapping her arm around Cat’s waist.

If Kara had more than a split second, she would have noted how unbelievably _tiny_ Cat Grant felt tucked into her body.

Instead, she moves on autopilot, wrapping Cat into her chest and run-slash-flying around the corner of the building as the car explodes. The blast is still forceful to her high constitution, and she stumbles to the ground a bit, falling on one knee as she shields Cat’s body from the blast with her own.

After the explosion there is a brief moment where nothing happens. Where all Kara can hear is Cat’s now-thundering heartbeat, where all she can feel is the force of it through Cat’s body, her back pressed to Kara’s chest as the last bits of debris fall around them.

And then alarms start going off, she can hear people shouting, and beneath it the clicking of camera phones, whispers, nearby doors and windows opening and shutting.

“Wait here, Ms. Grant,” Kara whispers, running a comforting hand over Cat’s arm as she stands up.

“Stop, _Kara_ ,” Cat says, turning her head to look over her shoulder. Her name is pointed, and Kara freezes a moment, looks down at her normal Kara Danvers, personal assistant clothes, and nods, gets her point.

A crowd is already gathering, and outside in the open it’s not going to be possible to do even her quickest change. “It’s fine,” she assures Cat, and heads back toward what is left of the car, now mostly a burning pile of metal.

She doesn’t get as close as she’d like—too many eyes, too many phones out—but she can see the blast radius, looks through the rubble to see that no one else appears to have been hit, nor did there seem to be a driver in the car when it exploded.

All that’s left of the bomb is a mangled device burning underneath the rest of the backseat, and as much as Kara would like to get a good look at it, she can’t, not here. And it’s so _frustrating_ ; she could put out the flames in an instant, if it weren’t for the twenty-or-so people gathered around.

The sirens are getting closer, and Kara can see the fire truck about six blocks away. She’s got a feeling that it will look awfully similar to the others she’s seen from Maxwell Lord, and the idea that he’s chosen Cat as the likely target for Supergirl sends a chill up her spine.

There’s no one else on this side of the rubble with her, and the flames are high—she could probably get low enough that no one would see if she just—

A hand on her forearm draws her attention, and when she looks over at the source Cat is standing beside her, a warning written on her face. “The fire department is almost here.”

Reluctantly Kara nods, and then pulls her phone from her pocket. “I need to make a call.” Cat’s hand drops from her skin, and she hesitates, looks at Cat closely for the first time since the explosion. Her hair is tangled, and there is soot on her cheeks, dirt on her clothes—she’s disheveled, a look that is entirely foreign to Kara, even after the Livewire incident.

“Are you alright?” she asks softly, and Cat nods, looking past her toward the site.

“I’m fine. Make your call.” The fire truck rounds the corner into sight, and Kara steps back, thumbing through her recent calls to dial Alex.

“ _Hey, Kara_ ,” she answers quickly, and the sound of Alex’s voice is instantly soothing.

“Alex,” she breathes out. “Someone tried to kill Cat tonight.”

“ _What? Are you both OK?_ ”

“We’re fine,” Kara breathes, and looks over at Cat standing in front of her building, arms wrapped around herself and her body slightly shivering. “She’s a little shaken up.”

“ _What happened?_ ”

“Someone put a bomb under the car waiting for her and I pulled her out before it went off. There are people here now, and I’m dressed like me so I can’t get a good look, but I think it was Lord. Do you think you and Hank could check this out?”

“ _Of course, I’ll see what we can do. Do you want to meet us back here?_ ”

“Actually,” Kara swallows hard, and glances back at Cat. She’s got her own phone out now, but she glances up at Kara when she looks over. Angling away from Cat, Kara lowers her voice. “I, uh, I kind of—well, _confirmed_ that I’m, you know…”

“ _Kara, I thought you said you were handling it?_ ”

“I was! I just wasn’t counting on _this_ happening, and after you pull someone away from a bomb and down the street it’s a bit more difficult to deny than a similar face.” Kara adjusts her glasses, self-conscious at the thought of who knows, of who _will_ know. “Look, I think I should try to talk to her now, and try to convince her not to publish. Will you let me know if you find anything out?”

“ _Yeah, yeah I’ll let you know. Good luck, Kara_.”

“Thanks, Alex.”

Kara hangs up the phone and steels herself before she turns back to Cat, whose phone is now pressed to her own ear. The sirens are loud as they pull up and start clearing the area, but Kara can hear Cat speaking softly, asking _are you with your father, honey?_ and Carter confirm from the other end.

Cat’s shoulders visibly drop, her shaking is less noticeable, even to Kara. Moving closer, she can hear their conversation without the super hearing, and she slows a few steps back, not wanting to interrupt.

“Alright, sweetheart. Have a good time. I love you.” Kara turns her head away as Cat finishes the call, and watches the firemen put out the last of the flame. Hopefully Alex will get here soon.

“I suppose you heard all of that conversation?” Cat asks, coming to stand beside Kara to watch the smoke.

For a moment, Kara considers denying it. But the cat—she winces—is definitely out of the bag at this point. “Is Carter OK?”

When Kara looks over, Cat is smiling weakly. “He says he’s fine, he’s with his dad and they’re in his apartment for the night. But if this,” she waves at the ruined car, “was planned to hurt me, then—”

“Carter could be in danger,” Kara’s stomach sinks. “Do—should Supergirl go pick him up?”

Cat’s eyes widen a bit in surprise, her lips parting at Kara’s most blatant admission thus far. But as quickly as her shock was there, it’s gone, her brows furrowing as she shakes her head. “No, not yet. If I’m in danger he might be safest with his father,” she huffs out a breath of a laugh at the thought.

Kara reaches out to comfort Cat, but before she can the loud double beep of a police car pulling up cuts through the moment. Dropping her hand to her side, Kara turns to face the officer heading their way.

“Ms. Grant?” he asks, coming to stand in front of both of them. “We got a call about the explosion outside your building. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I was heading home for the night and about to get into the town car my assistant had called for,” she looks at Kara briefly. “Before I could sit down she called back back to clarify one of my last assignments for her. We were over here when the car exploded.”

Logically, Kara knows that if Cat were to reveal her identity, she wouldn’t say a word of it before the article was written, to ensure the exclusive. Still, hearing Cat lie about what happened to protect her identity, it makes her relax a little.

“Miss? Do you have anything to add?” the officer asks her.

Kara looks to Cat quickly, before shaking her head. “No, uh, Ms. Grant told you everything. We were over here.”

The officer nods. “OK, thanks. Will you both stick around for a few more minutes?”

Kara nods, “Yes, sir.” When the officer walks away, Kara turns toward Cat. “Thank you,” she says, only a bit reluctantly. Cat may not have spilled the beans, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t coming.

But Cat waves her hand, her usual smirk in these situations gone, and Kara can’t help but remember how she’d felt when she learned Carter was on the train a few weeks ago. “Ms. Grant? I could see if one of the agents I work with could check on Carter, if you want.”

Cat looks up at her slowly, a little stunned, before she nods. “Yes, that would—I would appreciate that.” A bit more focused, she adds, “I’m sure he’s not the target of whatever this was, but Carter’s dad isn’t the most observant man. It wouldn’t hurt to have a professional there.”

Kara smiles softly, her own anxiety fading a little. “Of course. I’ll give them a call.” Face turning more serious, she asks, “And then maybe I could talk to you about…” she lowers her voice, “ _Supergirl_.”

Cat arches an eyebrow. “Does this mean you plan to stop convincing me you aren’t her?” Kara clenches her jaw, and stays silent. “Very well, then. We can talk.” Glancing around the area, she gestures up to top of the building. “Though I suppose my office won’t do tonight, with everything going on here.”

“I can take you home when we can go,” Kara offers, “I can make sure this was the only bomb he planted, too.”

Cat’s eyes narrow, and a second too late Kara realizes what she’s said. “ _He_?”

The officer they’d been speaking to comes back, a notepad out in his hand. “Alright, Ms. Grant, before you and your assistant leave, could you tell me if there’s anyone you know that would be trying to harm you?”

“If Lois Lane had enough skill to pull this off, I would be tempted to list her as a possibility for taking the Segal award,” she says dryly, and Kara knows it’s an attempt to regain control when she feels none. Cat shakes her head, “But no, there are no individuals I can think of other than a disgruntled employee of some sort. It’s not as though CEOs are known for people-pleasing.” Cat looks from to cop to her, her eyes narrowed. “What do you think, Kiera?”

Kara clears her throat, and shakes her head. “No, uh, nope. No one I can think of. Like Ms. Grant said, a former employee, maybe.” She can feel Cat watching her closely as she speaks, even after.

The officer nods, and jots something down in his pad. “Thank you, Miss…?”

“Kara Danvers,” she holds out a hand to the officer, and she can still feel Cat watching her.

“If either of you think of anything else,” he drops Kara’s hand and holds out a card to Kara with his line.

“Yes, sir.” Kara slips it into the pocket of her sweater. The officer leaves, and Kara holds her breath, waiting for Cat to press her.

“Well,” Cat says, and Kara looks over at her slowly. “Will you give me a _lift_ , Kiera?”

Her breath catches at the thought of flying Cat home, for a mixture of reasons, and she pulls her phone from her pocket. “Why don’t I call us another car, Ms. Grant,” she offers instead, and turns away to make the call.

* * *

The ride is the longest Kara’s had in her life. Driving always feels slow to her now, something she never minded when she was younger and not using her powers daily, but now it’s _killing_ her.

It doesn’t help that Cat hasn’t stopped looking at her since they pulled away from CatCo. Plaza.

“An agent should be over to watch your ex-husband’s house shortly,” Kara says to break the silence. They’ve been in the car for almost five minutes without more than a few short words to their driver, and Kara’s ready to crawl out of her skin. There’s no traffic, but downtown is nothing but stoplights, and they’ve got at least ten minutes left before they make it to Cat’s penthouse.

“Yes, as you told me waiting for the car to arrive,” Cat says through a smirk. It’s painfully obvious how much she enjoys Kara’s discomfort, just like it has been all week. All but confirming with the words _I’m Supergirl_ has done nothing to temper that enjoyment, and Kara’s almost positive she’s developed an ulcer over this, despite her alien constitution.

“Right,” Kara murmurs, fiddling with the handle of her car door and looking out the window.

“Careful, dear. You wouldn’t want to break something.” Kara closes her eyes and doesn’t turn to look at Cat, but her fingers stop moving and she rests them on her lap.

The silence fills the space again, and Kara’s nerves skyrocket with each block. She’s not sure what is causing her more anxiety at this point, but the entire conversation waiting for her at the end of this drive is going to be _long_.

Cat hasn’t pressed her about her slip-up referencing Lord back with the cop, but she’s not an idiot—Cat Grant does not let things go. She waits.

A trait that Kara admires most of the time, but right now is proving to be her least favorite aspect of her boss. Kara is not exactly patient herself, after all.

When they finally pull up to Cat’s building—a place Kara has been exactly twice in as many years, and never been allowed past the lobby desk—she doesn’t move.

“Most people need to open the door to get out,” Cat says behind her. “Or is this a new power of yours?” Kara opens the door quickly, picking up on the minor threat in Cat talking about her in front of the driver.

She slides out and turns around, holding out her hand to help Cat out behind her. Always poised—even a half-hour after an attempt on her life—Cat sets one heel onto the ground before she takes Kara’s hand and holds on as Kara helps her out.

Cat steps up onto the sidewalk and Kara lets go of her hand to touch her arm; it’s something little, innocuous, and certainly not the first time she’s done it. But Cat winces at the touch as Kara is shutting the car door behind them, and she immediately lets go.

“Ms. Grant?” At first she assumes that she’s touched her too hard. She’s been distracted, she’s nervous, and she’s certainly made that error before, lost sight of her own power. But when she drops her hand she can see a tear in Cat’s silk sleeve. “Are you alright?”

Cat holds up her arm, noticing the cut herself for the first time, and she brushes her fingers over the rip gently before dropping her hand back to her side. “And I just got this last week,” she clucks, and raises a brow. “Perhaps Supergirl should work on her shielding abilities.”

Kara knows she’s not serious, that Cat’s never been anything other than grateful for Kara’s— _Supergirl’s_ —rescue, but she feels guilty all the same that she didn’t protect her completely, and that she didn’t notice Cat’s injury sooner, small as it may be.

“We should get that cleaned up,” Kara points out, though Cat is already moving toward her building’s entrance.

“We? I wasn’t aware that Supergirl was also a nursemaid,” she tugs the glass door open and Kara slips through it behind her.

“Ms. Grant,” Kara warns in a bit of a hiss, aware of the half-dozen or so people moving through the lobby.

“Relax, these stuffed shirts are so focused on their own lives that nothing short of a police siren would stir their interest. And even that isn’t a guarantee.”  Cat leads them toward the elevator in the corner of the lobby, and Kara follows, watches as Cat presses the call button.

The elevator is slow to arrive, and as Kara hears it coming closer and closer, she can’t help but shift in her spot, feeling more than a little out of place. Even more so, considering the dirt and soot that is dusted on her clothes and skin. Cat’s managed to clean herself up a bit on the ride over, though her blonde hair is more limp than it ever is, but Kara had been too nervous, too focused on trying to imagine what would happen once they got here, and her clothes show it.

Not to mention that she can’t even afford to _look_ at an apartment here, much less live in the penthouse.

The elevator dings softly, and Cat steps into the car, Kara following right behind. “I’m sure you realize this is a one-time offer, Kiera,” Cat says, opening the purse on her arm to pull out her keys. “Should I ever need you to drop something off for me you will continue to leave it at the front desk as you’ve done in the past.”

Cat’s line in the sand about their relationship is as comforting as it is insulting, and Kara finds herself relaxing a bit despite herself. While it’s not an ideal dynamic, it certainly is a familiar and _normal_ one, and by the time the elevator reaches Cat’s floor, Kara is pretty sure she won’t break the doorknob off in distraction, at least.

The small entryway outside of her door is quiet, of course, but also surprisingly welcoming; there is a table with fresh flowers beside the door, artwork and mirrors on the walls, and everything is painted in soft blue and cream. It actually reminds her of Cat’s office a little, and that makes her relax just a little bit more.

Cat moves to open the door, and Kara holds her hand out. “Wait,” she says, and unlike the towncar Cat freezes. “I should probably check,” she trails off, and fidgets with her glasses.

“Oh,” Cat licks her lips, and steps back, realizing what Kara means. “Of course.” Kara scans the door with her X-ray vision, then past and into the apartment, finding no signs of a second explosive.

“OK, it should be safe,” she pushes her glasses back up, and Cat nods, moving to open the door. She walks through, and when Kara hesitates in the hallway, she throws over her shoulder, “Unless you wish to have our conversation out here, I suggest you come inside,” before walking further into her home.

“It’s beautiful, Ms. Grant,” she says, and steps over the threshold to see the inside looking much like the hallway, but much cozier; it looks like an actual _home_. For as tidy and organized Cat is at work, Kara expected to find her house looking like a magazine shoot for _Better Homes & Gardens_.

And, OK, to be fair, it does. But it also looks decidedly lived in. There is a blanket pooled on one end of the lush couch in the center of the living area, Carter’s textbooks spilling out of his backpack hung by the door, a handful of dishes in the sink.

Kara realizes she’s staring a little, realizes how blatantly she’s taking in the space, and turns toward Cat.

Who is unbuttoning her silk shirt beside the entryway.

Swallowing hard, Kara adjusts her glasses and looks to the side of her, a little flustered at the sight. She’s got a camisole underneath, Kara realizes, and it’s perfectly appropriate, of course. Cat pulls the silk button-up free, out of her black skirt, and turns her arm to look at the cut Kara had found as she sets the ruined shirt down on the kitchen counter beside her.

“Do you have a first-aid kit?” Kara asks, and Cat points down the hall.

“In the bathroom,” she murmurs, and moves toward the kitchen sink, grabbing a towel from the rack on the counter and holding it under water to wet it.

Grateful to have something to do, Kara moves down the hallway, using her X-ray vision to scan each closed door. The bathroom is in between Carter and Cat’s rooms—she feels only the slightest bit uncomfortable about seeing Cat’s personal space, even in such a blurred state—and she retrieves the kit from below the sink quickly, before heading back into the kitchen.

Kara can hear Cat’s soft wince across the room as Cat holds the towel to the cut. “It must have happened on the door when I pulled you out,” Kara says, and Cat nods, dabbing at the wound.

“I suppose it’s better than being blown into pieces, Supergirl,” she murmurs, and Kara winces at the title. So, they can do this now. Great.

“Here,” Kara says, ignoring the opening to really talk—now that it’s here she just needs a moment—and sets the first-aid kit on the kitchen bar counter. Cat shuts the water off and comes to stand beside her, and then sitting down on one of the barstools when Kara pulls it out. “May I?” she asks, and gestures to the towel in Cat’s hand.

Handing it over wordlessly, Cat watches her closely. She rests her good arm on the counter, flexing the other until her hand rests on her neck to give Kara access to the cut above her elbow. It’s not that deep—Kara figures her arm must have caught on the edge of the car door—but it’s long enough that Kara feels that bit of guilt when any rescue isn’t perfect.

“Oh for god’s sake, I’ve gotten papercuts worse than this,” Cat rolls her eyes, and takes the cloth back from Kara, pours the alcohol onto the towel before she presses it to her skin with a small wince.

“I’m sorry,” Kara still murmurs, and digs into the kit for a band-aid and antibiotic cream.

“I’ll live,” Cat says tiredly, and when she pulls the cloth back she raises her arm up to blow on the cut.

“Stings?” Kara asks, and Cat shoots her a _duh_ look that is surprisingly juvenile. “Here,” Kara says, and steps into Cat’s space until she’s cupping her elbow and leaning down. Gently she blows a little on the cut, until the breath becomes almost visible, a little icy, and she can feel a shiver run through Cat’s body.

When she sucks in a breath Kara stops quickly, looks up until she meets her eyes, and lets Cat’s arm fall back down a bit, though she doesn’t let go. “Sorry, too cold?” As an apology she rubs her thumb over the skin beside the wound, once, twice, and Cat’s spine stiffens.

“It was fine,” she says after a moment, and Kara can hear how _thick_ her voice is, suddenly. Clearing her throat, Cat adds, “I see you’ve mastered the freezy-breath thing since our first interview. I suppose that will come in handy this summer for my iced lattes.”

“Oh,” is all Kara can say at first. Again, logically, she knows that Cat wouldn’t fire her for this secret—after all, that would go against Cat’s interest in a pretty big way, considering her desire to own Supergirl for all intents and purposes.

Kara realizes that while she has a logical understanding of what Cat will likely do with her new information, in reality Kara has _no clue_ what to expect. Because for as well as she thinks she knows Cat Grant, there is a lot she _doesn’t_ understand. A lot about Cat’s life—namely her motivations and priorities, which have become more and more unclear to Kara the more she learns about her boss—is completely foreign to Kara.

She’s always known her boss as a feminist, a supporter of women, driven, a mother. But so much recently has made these things _tangible_ in a way that she never expected—seeing her fight for, not only Supergirl, but for the _idea_ of Supergirl. Learning what she’d done for Leslie Willis and her regrets on what she hadn’t done, guiding Kara in her own way and preparing her for navigating the business world as she’d had to learn on her own. How _hard_ she had to fight over and over to get where she is now. And how _deeply_ she loved her son, how she lights up just saying his name.

Kara is terrified of what happens next because she realizes she might not understand what Cat wants out of Supergirl, after all.

“If you’re not going to finish the job, you should probably let go of my arm so I can,” Cat says, and Kara snaps back, dropping Cat’s elbow as she opens the Neosporin.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, and gently cups her arm again to lift it up.

“Do you remember what I told you about apologizing?” she winces as Kara brushes the cut.

“Yes, Ms. Grant,” she nods, and applies the band-aid.

“Then stop doing it,” Cat pulls her arm out of Kara’s hand, and presses the band-aid down more firmly. Eyeing Kara, she adds, “I suppose this explains why you didn’t wake up with the same hangover I did the morning after that night.”

“And the fact that you drank about six times what I did,” Kara says, packing the kit back up.

“Hmmm,” she murmurs, and slips down from the barstool. “And how you were suddenly able to manage hot coffee in the morning,” she moves slowly through the open area between her living room and kitchen, heels clicking on the wood floor. “Though it doesn’t explain why you weren’t doing so all along.”

“I, uh, didn’t use my powers at all before...I did,” she finishes vaguely, not sure she’s can pull Alex into this discussion, even if Cat could logically figure out the reason or close to, on her own.

“Interesting choice,” she says, popping one hip out as she turns back toward Kara, and crosses her arms over her waist. “When I asked you why you came out when you did, you wouldn’t tell me,” she offers, raising a brow. “Care to elaborate on that reason now?”

Her deeper question is clear: _how much will you tell me, now that I know who you really are?_

Kara swallows hard, and closes the first-aid kit back up. “Honestly?” she asks, and Cat smirks.

“Please.”

This is a big moment. A moment for Kara to decide if she’s going to draw a line, to determine if she’s allowed to draw a line. To learn how much Cat’s drive outweighs her humanity.

“No.”

Cat’s eyes flash dangerously, and a sick smirk crosses her lips. It’s _not_ comforting.

“No?” she asks, and tilts her head. “No ‘sorry, Ms. Grant’, even?” Kara’s heart is pounding. “Just, ‘ _no_ ’?”

“Yes?” she can’t help but ask it. Because she may be the most powerful woman in National City, but Cat Grant thinks she _made_ her, and that is an even more powerful thought.

“I’m surprised, Kiera.” She drops her arms from her waist, and moves around the couch to take a seat in a large armchair. “Sit,” she gestures to the couch, and rests her arms on the armrests beside her.

“That’s OK?” she asks, tentatively.

“For now,” Cat answers. “I assume you’re aware that I’ll likely figure it out. I suppose I can grant you the semblance of control.”

Again, it’s _not_ comforting. But at the same time it sort of illustrates what their relationship will be, what it’s going to become. And at least she can work with that.

“Since you won’t tell me why you started, why don’t you tell me why you’re so nervous that I know.”

Kara laughs, she can’t help it. “You—” her laughter fades a little, “I think that’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

Cat purses her lips, and gives her the same look she did that night on the balcony. Knowing, but forcing Kara’s hand anyway. Because make no mistake, this is about _power_ , as much as it ever is with Cat. “Tell me anyway.”

Clenching her jaw, Kara sobers, and takes a breath. “Fine.” She rounds the couch and takes a seat where Cat’s directed her. Setting her elbows on her thighs, she tilts her head a little, deciding on how to phrase it. Finally, she says, “Some people might think you see Supergirl as a trophy.” The words are soft, but not without an edge.

“‘Some’? Don’t be coy, darling. It’s not endearing in someone your age.” Cat purses her lips. “If you have something to say, I suggest you come right out and say it.”

“Fine,” Kara swallows, and tilts her chin up. “I think you picture a little Supergirl on your award shelf. One you can take out and show off whenever you want.”

Cat smirks, and slides her hands to the chair on either side of her. “That would be a sight, wouldn’t it?” It’s not a denial, Kara notices. “And when I take you out to show off, what will that look like?”

“So, that is your plan?” she’s a bit taken aback.

“Let’s say it is, Kiera.” Her smirk is somewhere between compelling and irritating, how she seems to know something Kara doesn’t. “How will I use my Supergirl trophy?”

Kara thinks a moment, and then, “The way you are now, I suppose. Use me to promote CatCo. For interviews, exclusives.”

“I see,” Cat crosses her legs, and leans forward as though she’s about to whisper. But her voice is even as she says, “So I’ll expect her— _you_ ,” she raises her brow, both having acknowledged Kara as Supergirl undeniably, “to continue doing good. Continue saving National City and its inhabitants. Continue saving me,” she says the last a little breathless, acknowledgement of just how many times that’s happened. Of their undeniable _relationship_ when she was Supergirl. Of all the words Supergirl said that Kara wouldn’t have, all the smiles Cat gave her that Kara hadn’t gotten.

“And?” Kara prompts. “What else?”

“And, rather than let the _Daily Planet_ scoop us ever again, you will become my very reliable, very regular source on anything happening in the city.” Cat gives her a faux-confused head tilt. “And I don’t think that’s really asking very much, darling. After all, you’ve already given one reporter only an interview. Think of it as an extension of that relationship. Or even as insurance that no one else figure out your identity. After all, I already know—what else is there for me to find out, as compared to the rest of the reporters in this or other cities?”

Kara licks her lips, eyes narrowing in thought. Because really, it wasn’t _that_ different than it already was, right? Logically, Cat makes a good point. Containment of the secret, and the only cost is to funnel information to the Tribune. Information that would be written by someone regardless.

“I... _suppose_ ,” Kara says softly, still wary of a trap. “And you get to hold my secret over my head should I refuse at any point,” she says, a little bitterly.

Cat’s smirk fades a little, and she uncrosses her legs. “Your identity is certainly valuable information,” she agrees, not denying Kara’s assumption. Standing, she adds, “However, in case you’ve forgotten, Supergirl has become rather important to CatCo. as of late. Why on earth would I jeopardize that by revealing that the Woman of Steel is little more than an administrative assistant?”

It’s true, Kara supposes, but the way Cat says it makes Kara’s stomach drop. That she can see her as Supergirl one moment and then just her assistant, as if both don’t have value, _hurts_ more than she would have expected.

Cat moves across the room to the other side of a dining table, and pours herself a drink. “Not to mention that half of the appeal of your cousin is the fact that he’s a mystery,” she says softly, her voice quieter in volume and in sentiment, and Kara almost needs to use her super hearing to catch it.

After a moment she turns, two glasses in her hands, and when she comes back she holds one out to Kara, as she takes a drink of the other. Cat’s fingers are cold when Kara brushes them to take the glass, and she can see gooseflesh on Cat’s arms, her bare shoulders and chest.

Cat is, has _always_ been small, much smaller in body than should be able to contain such ambition and drive, but stripped down like this Kara can practically see each bone. “Thanks,” Kara murmurs, setting the glass on her knee, and tries not to think of the last time they drank together. How Cat had taught her about her past, about what Kara’s future might be like. How she warned and encouraged Kara in the same breath, stroking and tempering her ambition in kind.

Kara hadn’t realized until that night just how _much_ Cat Grant had been through. She’d admired her long before she applied to be her assistant, but she didn’t realize just how strong Cat was until Kara had started to explore a strength of her own.

“And Superman being a mystery, it’s a good thing?” Kara finally asks. Because no matter what happens between herself and Cat, she will always be interested in her insight.

Cat sits down on the couch beside Kara this time, angling her body toward Kara and resting her bent elbow on the back of the couch, her bandage stark on her skin. “It’s crucial,” she says, and crosses one leg over the other, letting her heel drop off of her foot as she toes the other off. “When people in Metropolis look at Superman, they see a man that could be their friend, their neighbor, their co-worker.

“The idea that a superhero could be next to you on the bus, could be the man driving your taxi, is _powerful_. It makes people feel protected even when they’re in the middle of a crisis, physical or otherwise. The hope that any second someone could swoop in and save you, could be looking out for you,” Cat’s focus drifts off a little, lost in her own thoughts.

Kara can feel her heart pounding a bit faster, and sets her glass down on Cat’s coffee table as she tucks her legs under her. “I never thought about it that way,” she says softly, and Cat looks at her again.

This time her attention is almost cutting, but her face and eyes are soft. Softer than Kara’s ever seen directed at anyone other than her sons. A small smile crosses her lips, and she runs her thumbnail over the edge of her glass, the tiniest sound hitting Kara’s ears.

“National City, just like Metropolis, gets far more from you than those muscles, Kara.”

It’s not the first time Cat’s said her name—she’d said it after the explosion, Kara hadn’t missed that—but it’s the first time she’s gotten to react and she’s surprised at how much it affects her.

Kara can’t stop the small smile that tugs at her lips, and before it grows she takes a drink of the alcohol Cat has given her, grateful for the strong smell and taste that pull her focus, if even for a moment.

“I…” Kara breathes out through her nose, and worries her lip for a long moment, considering what she’s about to say. The complete opposite of how she’s felt all week: “I suppose that what you’ve proposed doesn’t sound terrible.”

Cat smiles, holds up her glass. “To our partnership, then, Supergirl.” Kara holds her own glass up, touches it to Cat’s gently, and then takes a drink with her.

“I guess we should talk about ground rules, or something?”

“Ground rules? I’m not sure how big of a change you’re imagining, but I don’t see why anything needs to change at the office. You are still my assistant, are you not?”

“Well, I mean—”

“I meant what I said that day with Dirk, Kara,” her name rings in Kara’s ears for the third time that day, and she cannot stop the feeling of warmth she gets this time. “You will always have a job with me.”

A little uncomfortable, Kara laughs, hollow. “And knowing that assistant is the most powerful girl in the city?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Cat smirks, and her eyes drop down from Kara’s to her cheeks, her lips, her chest, and back again.

Kara imagines this is what it feels like to be on the other end of X-ray vision.

Her cheeks feel warm, and so she takes another drink.

“So, Supergirl,” when Kara looks back up, Cat is swirling her drink, watching it. “Are you going to tell me who is threatening my life?”

Kara freezes. She’d almost forgotten about that slip with all of the other issues they had to work through tonight. “I don’t know who it is,” Kara says honestly, and sets her glass down again. Regrets it immediately when she realizes she has nothing to do with her hands.

“But you have a suspicion,” Cat finishes, picking up on what Kara isn’t saying. More seriously, she asks, “Should I be worried for Carter?”

Kara looks over at her, sees the fear so blatantly written on her face. “I don’t know,” she answers honestly. “But I don’t think so. And he’s being watched right now,” she reminds. Thinking of the DEO, she adds, “By people I trust.”

Cat nods, accepts Kara’s words. “Alright.”

“Maxwell Lord said something to me,” she starts.

“To _you_?”

“To Supergirl,” she clarifies. “The explosion that was supposed to happen on the train, it was meant to test me. To test Supergirl.”

“To see if you would stop it?”

Kara pushes at her glasses. “Among other things. Lord wants to figure out who Supergirl is. Not unlike other people,” she adds pointedly, not that Cat reacts to the words at all. Sighing, she shifts in her spot, uncomfortable. “He seems to think the key to figuring out who I am is to go after people I care about.

“And,” Kara hesitates, “he knows that you have a connection to Supergirl. If he put together that it was your son on the train,” she trails off.

“And how would that _not_ put my son in danger?” Cat snaps.

_Because he sees the value in children as leverage_ , Kara doesn’t say, as she thinks about the dying girl Lord kept alive to keep her father in line. “I...I have reasons to assume he isn’t, Ms. Grant,” she says softly, soothingly. Cat looks at her suspiciously. “And if Carter is with his father on the outskirts of National City right now, it’s the best place for him. Away from Lord.”

Cat seems to accept this more, though she clenches her jaw as if biting back a fight. A sight Kara doesn’t get to see often.

“So,” she starts after a moment, “Maxwell plans to get at you through me? How…”

“Cliche?” Kara laughs, and leans back into the couch to look at her boss.

Cat’s eyes widen a little, her lips parting as she stops stroking the glass in her hand. Clearing her throat, she looks down. “I was going to say ‘foolish’, actually.”

Kara laughs again, but Cat isn’t making a similar sound. The laughter dies a little on Kara’s lips, her smile falling. “I mean—isn’t it a little obvious? Supergirl respects you, Ms. Grant. She gave _you_ the first interview. She’s saved you a few times.” _She saved your son_. Cat looks up at her, and Kara’s voice gets softer as she realizes what she’s saying. “You named her. _Me_.” Fidgeting with her glasses, she adds, “Supergirl will forever be linked to CatCo, to _you_ , if you remember.”

“Well, when you lay it out like that,” Cat agrees, her lips turning up into a smile. “I guess an argument can be made.”

The room settles into silence, and Kara can feel Cat’s eyes on her again, her own downcast at the expensive rug on the floor. Cat’s focus is softer than the car ride over, but no less intense. “It’s a shame,” Cat’s voice breaks the quiet, and Kara looks up, can feel the couch cushion dip a little as Cat shifts the tiniest bit closer, not that they’re far apart to begin with.

“What is?” Kara asks, eyes flitting to the bandage on Cat’s hand as she stretches her arm out across the back of the couch, fingers settling inches from Kara’s hair.

“That you need to wear these,” Cat murmurs, and strokes over the edge of Kara’s glasses, tugs them down a little. Her fingers miss Kara’s skin by an inch, but the sight is enough to steal Kara’s breath.

“Ms. Grant…” Kara says softly, unsure if it’s a warning or encouragement.

Undeterred, Cat lets her pointer finger trail just below the bottom of the left frame, and this time Kara does feel it on her cheek, the gentle scratch of Cat’s nail on her skin. “I suppose they fit with your whole sweater-vest-loving nerd persona—”

“I don’t wear sweater-vests—”

“And Wayfarers are _in_ right now, so they don’t stand out much,” she pulls her hand back into a loose fist, elbow resting on the couch back. Kara can feel her heart pounding in anticipation, the uncertainty of what is about to happen making her mouth dry.

Cat’s own is beating fast but steady, and when Kara looks up to her face Cat’s eyes are trained on her lips. “But a shame, nonetheless,” she finishes, and runs the back of her fingers down Kara’s jaw before she drops her hand down.

The gentle touch scorches her, leaves Kara’s body warm and soft and pliant. And when Cat abruptly stands, she comes back to herself with a small jolt, realizing suddenly what a _terrible_ idea it is to want her boss, her keeper, her maybe-partner the way that she thinks she’s starting to.

“Well,” Cat says sharply, and the moment is over before it can start. “If my bedroom is safe, I suppose I should be getting to sleep. It’s been a long day.”

Kara shakes her head, laughing a little at her own ridiculous thoughts. “Yes, of course. I’m—let me just double check,” she says, and Cat scoops to pick up her heels with one hand.

“I assume you can find your way,” Cat smirks, gesturing for Kara to go first with a wave of her hand.

“Huh? Oh, right,” she laughs again— _maybe_ snorts a little out of discomfort—and gestures to her eyes. The ones Cat would obviously like to see more, not that she’s going to be thinking about that for the rest of the night or anything.

Kara had already scanned Cat’s house when they first got there, but she can double check, of course. And if she’s being honest, she’s not entirely ready to leave, to stop seeing this part of Cat Grant’s life.

She stops at Cat’s door, scans through it, and finds nothing. “It looks clear,” Kara says, and turns the door to let Cat go through.

“Thank you, Supergirl,” Cat murmurs, and when she brushes past Kara she runs her hand over Kara’s forearm.

The touch feels like electricity, reminds her of Livewire and a high current directly at her chest as she jumps in front of Cat. But it burns softer, too, like walking through a burgeoning fire, warming her from the outside in, and without meaning to Kara inhales, gets a strong whiff of the rich, warm scent of Cat, of her space.

Before she gets sappy, Kara gestures over her shoulder. “Before I leave I can check the rest of the rooms again?”

“Alright,” Cat agrees, and moves toward her drawers to pull out something to sleep in, Kara assumes.

“Do—I could also stay the night,” Kara offers, and then closes her eyes quickly, shaking her head. “I mean on the couch, if you want me. If that would make you feel safe.”

“If Maxwell Lord hopes that I’ll lead him to you, wouldn’t that be a terrible idea, Kiera?” Cat’s use of her not-name is—as it always is—purposeful, and Kara laughs self-deprecatingly.

“Good point,” she shakes her head. “Of course, that’s—” she can feel herself losing every semblance of cool she had as Supergirl. It’s a little painful.

“Kiera?” Cat raises a brow.

“Yes, Ms. Grant?”

“I would like to change, and I should probably close the door to do so,” she smirks, clearly enjoying Kara’s flustered state.

“Oh! Oh, god, of course,” Kara says, shutting the door on herself and turning to start scanning the other rooms. After a moment she comes back to Cat’s bedroom door, and says through it, “Everything looks good here.”

The door opens, and Cat walks out in a dark burgundy silk robe that stops at her knees. Perfectly appropriate, just like the camisole. Still, Kara swallows hard. “Thank you,” Cat says, and gestures down the hall, toward the entrance. “Let me see you out.”

“Sure,” Kara leads the way to the door, and opens it to look out into the hallway. “OK,” she says turning. “I guess, let me know if you need anything, or if anything suspicious happens. I’ll check in with the agent, and swing by myself later to make sure everything there is safe, too, just in case,” Cat’s face softens a little.

“And, uh,” Kara isn’t sure how to address the rest of it, address Supergirl and CatCo. and what’s going to happen to her now. She feels _better_ about it, in ways, but Cat Grant is still such a mystery to her she can’t help but feel nervous, too.

“I guess we’ll just see how the rest of it goes,” Kara shrugs tightly, and Cat crosses her arms over her waist.

“I guess we will. Goodnight,” she murmurs, standing by the door, and when Kara turns to head toward the elevator, she _swears_ she can feel Cat’s fingers drift down her back, followed by the gentle click of the door.


End file.
